


Half-Truths

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Past Hydra Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: Tony should've known the real Steve Rogers could never love him.





	Half-Truths

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> A fill for the prompt: “The saddest thing that can happen to a person is to find out their memories are lies.” — Juan Gabriel Vásquez.

Tony had always had an easy, obvious answer if someone asked him, _Tell me about the best day of your life_.

“The day when we found Steve in the ice,” he’d say. 

Then Steve Rogers kissed him on the lips, and Tony’s answer changed. Every single day with Steve was the best, better than the last, promising a better tomorrow. Tony’d loved him for so long and so deeply, it seemed like a miracle to be with him.

And then Tony learns that it wasn’t a miracle. It was a lie.

***

When Steve, the real Steve, comes back, Tony can’t look him in the eye. He can’t look at him at all, guilty and ashamed in equal measures. He didn’t have time for that when he was fighting the fake Cap, when all even his genius mind could think at the time was strategies and damage control.

But now it’s over. Now Tony has nothing to distract him from his broken heart.

“Do you remember?” he asks quietly, a quick question in between everyone hugging Steve welcome.

Steve freezes; then he nods.

Tony doesn’t run away. He just has an armour to fix, a Tower to rebuild, the Avengers PR to take care of. His time is limited, so he leaves to take care of other, more important things.

***

There’s exactly one advantage to the Tower being gone: Tony doesn’t have to tear the memories off the walls of his bedroom, doesn’t have to throw out souvenirs and burn every last reminder of the fake Cap. It’s been done for him.

If only he’d been as carefully removed from his brain. If only his body could forget. The ghost of touches stays on his skin no matter how many scaldingly hot showers he takes.

The worst thing is that Tony hadn’t noticed. The worst thing is that it had felt real. Maybe the only version of Steve who could ever love him is an evil, scheming villain.

(There’s no maybe about that.)

It was easy to live looking at Steve from afar, imagining what kissing him would be like. It seems impossible to live _knowing_ it and knowing nothing was real.

***

There’s no pain in his nightmares, no blood, no incursions; his heart doesn’t give up and no one dies. Instead there’s Steve, and he’s smiling, and there are gentle touches and love; and _Hail Hydra_ whispered into Tony’s ear.

The foundations are laid for the new Tower. Tony has successfully avoided talking to Steve all this time.

He should’ve known his luck would run out.

Steve’s at his doorway, looking tense and determined. Tony’s only tense. 

“We should talk.”

It says something about situations that Steve’s words don’t make Tony feel worse.

Tony moves to the side, letting Steve walk inside. He shrugs out of his jacket, looks around for a place to hang it. Tony takes it from him, careful not to touch Steve’s hands and puts it in the wardrobe near the entrance next to his own coats.

“Coffee?” he asks, because he can be a good host if nothing else.

“No, thanks.” Steve shuffles around, awkward. “Can we sit somewhere?”

Of course, he hasn’t been to Tony’s flat before. Tony’s bought it after this whole disaster, because he needed a place to stay that isn’t a hotel while the Tower is being rebuilt.

Tony leads him to the living room and points at a sofa next to a low coffee table. He sits in the armchair, crosses his arms defensively in front of himself. He’s aware of what his body language looks like, he wouldn’t let himself do that in business negotiations, but this here is _Steve_. Tony doesn’t have energy to spare on pretending to be composed when they both know he isn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out when Steve sits down. “I should’ve noticed it wasn’t really you.” _But I wanted it to be true too much._

Steve frowns. “I—he’s lied to everyone. You couldn’t have known.”

 _I should’ve_ , Tony thinks.

“And, uh, that’s why I’m here,” Steve says. “To apologise.”

Tony looks at him. “For what? It wasn’t you.”

“But it was,” Steve says quietly. “Why do you think he went after you?”

Because he needed Tony distracted, because it was painfully obvious to everyone how Tony felt about Steve, because he chose the easiest available warm body. There are many potential answers. Tony’s not sure which one Steve wants to hear. 

“. . . he didn’t want me to suspect him,” he risks.

Steve stares at his hands like he’s never seen them before and needs to study them. “Because he _was_ me,” he corrects. “And I love you.”

“Right,” Tony says. “Let me call Strange.”

Steve looks at him, finally, clearly unhappy, but staring right into Tony’s eyes. “ _Tony_.”

It’s only one word; there’s no meaning in it, merely Tony’s name. And yet, with it, Tony understands, with sickening clarity, that Steve _is_ honest. 

Except that’s impossible. Tony has a long list of reasons for why it’s impossible. He used to recite it to himself every time Steve smiled at him just _so_. He recited it again after finding out the truth and he wondered how he could’ve let himself forget.

This here. It doesn’t add up.

Tony locks his hope down in the furthest corner of his brain.

“I can’t do it,” he hears himself say. 

“I don’t—”

“Let me,” Tony asks, and Steve falls silent. “I don’t have to say how I feel about you. You remember, and you know that was one hundred percent me.” He smiles self-depreciatingly. “I would’ve done anything you asked. But I can’t do this”—he gestures between them—“again.”

Steve shakes his head as Tony speaks. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.” He bites on his lip. “I know he—he coerced you.”

“He never forced me,” Tony says, feeling distanced and alien in his own body. Really, in the history of people Tony dated, that fake, evil Steve certainly didn’t treat him the worst. He didn’t try to kill him while they were together (Tony’s firmly convinced that whispering _Hail Hydra_ into your lover’s ear terminates any relationship).

“I’m not—” Steve seems frustrated. “God, Tony. I’m here to explain. I wanted you to know. You deserve that much. He might’ve stolen what could’ve been between us, but—”

“And you’re going to let him?” Tony demands, suddenly angry. 

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Steve snaps, and then he looks embarrassed for losing his calm. “You just said you couldn’t do it.”

Tony hangs his head, because it’s true. He _wants_ to, of course he does, but he’s got enough self-preservation instinct to stop himself from running into Steve’s arms. He wouldn’t survive another fallout. 

But what Steve just said _bothers_ Tony. It’s like letting the evil Steve win where it most matters, even after he’s locked in a cell with a key all but thrown away. 

“Let’s work on it,” he says. “Slowly, let’s . . . see what happens.” _Let me see you don’t change your mind. Let me see I can risk my heart again_.

The longing in Steve’s eyes is palpable. “Are you sure?”

 _No_. “Yes.”

To prove it, Tony gets up. He moves to Steve’s side. He sits next to him, not touching, but close. It feels like an impossible effort and it feels _good_.

He extends his hand. Steve takes it, his own hand shaking.

It’s the most they’ll do today, a simple touch they wouldn’t have thought twice of before. But now it means everything.

It means hope.


End file.
